Tea For Two
by LickSkillet
Summary: A Duke and a Viscount. It would be considered marrying down, if they went public. If they could marry at all. Sacrifice standing, reputation and money for love? Not likely. AkuRoku, with a side of RiSora. AU


**Author's Note: **

Tee hee. What comes about thanks to the Duchess and …. Some other film that I can't remember? A time piece AU fic! :D Will have chapters and such, enjoy it in it's... boring-ness.

* * *

When Roxas Ackart first saw Axel Rousseau, he knew the Viscount was trouble; fiery auburn hair, intense emerald eyes, and a dastardly smirk that never seemed to leave his face for more then a quickly passing moment. He carried himself with an aristocratic air, and his openly flirtatious chatter was always welcomed in the groups of rich upper crusts. He had been born just a few thousand pounds below Roxas in standing, but in upbringing… _well_.

So, when Roxas first laid his eyes upon the tall red haired man, his first instinct had been to run. Only the Lord in Heaven could predict what sort of gossip would become of his interacting with someone of Axel's nature. His standing would be ruined; never again would a persistent mother force an eligible young woman into his life.

Because, as much as Roxas hated to admit it, he did love to work over the ladies.

So, being seen with Axel was out of the question. But, that damned fool must have seen him, for there was his name, being called in that voice that was at once deep and commanding, yet from the nose and very irritating.

"Your Grace!"

Roxas greatly resented that term of addressing his class, but, alas, he reacted like a dog trained to a whistle. He had one of two choices; either run like a coward –- and Ackarts were _not_ cowards -– or turn back and be a polite, courteous young Duke. Because, really, what would just a second of conversation do?

"Hmm?" Roxas turned, revealing pearly whites and bright pink gums, bringing out his dimples, along with crinkling the corners of his glacial blue eyes in what he knew to be his most cordial and charismatic smile. "Ah, Viscount Rousseau. I hadn't known you were here tonight."

_I can't imagine who the in the entirety of Britain would invite you, more like._

To be honest, Roxas couldn't even remember who was throwing this grand hoorah anyway. Axel bowed ever so slightly at the waist.

"Your Grace." The title hung in the air as Axel straightened, then smiled thinly. "Oh, well, I am the vim and vigor of these galas. Can't have any sort of get-together without me around."

Roxas peered inquisitively at the taller man, yet was careful to keep his face unreadable. Awkward tension tightened between them for a moment as Roxas fought the childish urge to step from foot to foot in his anxiety to get away from the redhead.

"Yes. Well, if there was nothing else you wished to tell me, I really should find mother; it's getting rather late, and the ride home will be a long one." The blonde angled his body away from the other man, yet continued to face him, as was polite and cultured.

"I merely thought that I would introduce myself, seeing as you and I have attended so many of these together…"

Roxas almost choked, his hold on the mask across his face weakening.

"Attended… together?"

Axel grinned, his green eyes lighting up, the expression a stark contrast to one of Roxas' winning smiles; it was downright predatory, and Roxas fought back a shiver.

"Well, what I meant to say is that you and I have been to many of the same parties and balls. I simply decided that I should introduce myself." His catlike eyes scanned around the room in a bored fashion, not quite seeking a particular thing and not finding anything worth his time and energy. It was positively arrogant, and it boiled the young Duke's blood to see a lower rank with such a high view of his self.

"Ah, yes. Well, I'll try and keep an eye out for you the next time I attend some grand to-do." With a dip of the head, Roxas finally turned to leave. When no redhead continued to bother him, Roxas quickly scurried off to find an eligible lady to woo. Because, really, he only had so long until his father and mother picked someone out for him, and where was the fun in that?

* * *

The Ackarts owned a sprawling estate upon a hill in Northampton, a circular driveway leading up to a white stone portico, with ornate entablature about the tops of the ribbed column. For the sake of guests and partygoers, they had elected to have an oil lamp hung from beneath the stone roof, which was lit once it became dark. The front door itself was nearly twenty feet tall, flanked on each side by wide windows, inlays of crowned glass ovals in a symmetrical pattern along the edge, as a sort of inner frame.

Within the high, domed entryway hung a large, heavy chandelier, make of spun gold and silver, arching out around center strings of glass and crystal, heavier crystals dangling in teardrops from the base of tall candles, which the servants were forced to replace every other two days.

Just a few yards in from the front door, and up a handful of steps to a semi-circular landing, twin staircases spiraled up and away from the front of the house, which lead to a spacious upstairs, with well over twelve rooms

Past the staircases lay the reception area, lush red carpeting coating the marble floor far to the sides and filling a spacious room, decorated with soft couches and chaise lounges, in smooth silks, along with a large fireplace off to the left, which was surrounded by large lounging chairs for the men. Tables had been set out for tea and card games, should one want.

Through the doors on the left side of the room was the dining room, a table long enough to be set for over twenty people at a time, or to be used as a sort of buffet line. The table itself was of rich, dark cherry wood, stained and polished to a mirror shine, the chairs of a ever-so-slightly lighter shade, laid with exquisite yellow cushions, embroidered with swirling designs in luminous gold thread. The room was large, so that guests could come in and find their seats comfortably, without having to knock elbows.

In the middle of the room, arranged so to be lined up with the middle of the table, was the doorway to the kitchen. Further to the left was another doorway, which lead to a large, tall-ceilinged library. The Ackarts prided themselves upon their vast collection of books, ranging from family histories and journals, to novels and books of poetry.

If one were to back up, though, and head into the kitchen and then through another door into the vast back acres, one would be able to spot a large red barn, with stable hands running eagerly in and out. Outside of having a noble lineage and inheritance, the Ackarts breed, showed, raced, rode, and sold thoroughbred horses. They enjoyed hosting the hunt, and their stable was half full of friends' horses for when they would come and stay.

The stable was where Roxas happened to be, removing the saddle from his prized palomino lusitano stallion, Gabriel, imported from Portugal. The colt had been a present for Roxas' seventeenth birthday, and was now three years old. Every chance he got, Roxas took the restless stallion for a hard gallop across their vast fields, through the nearby woods, and around the lake, keeping the horse in shape and in high spirits.

"Don't worry about that, my grace," a stable hand murmured, stepping forward and grabbing firmly unto Gabriel's reigns. "I can take care of him."

Reluctantly, Roxas relinquished his hold on Gabriel and patted the sweating horse's backside firmly. He was well due for new clothing now anyway, after having exposed himself to the late August heat for so long.

Walking at a brisk pace, the heir to the Ackart fortune came into the kitchen, where the bustling staff hadn't even the time to notice him slip through and away. Roxas wasn't entirely sure what they were preparing for, but he didn't really care, either. The rest of the house was vacant, save for a stray servant running hither and thither.

His bedroom was the last in the hallway on the right side of the house. It was the second biggest, behind only his parent's master suite. The room itself had a table, chaise lounge and stuffed chair, all around a personal fireplace. On the other side lay the king bed with a canopy, the headboard flush against the opposite wall. The wall straight across from the door held many large windows, through which light now streamed. A large bloodhound lay in one corner, curled in on itself on a cushy red velvet pillow. At the intrusion of the silence, it leapt up, long ears flapping audibly as its tail worked into frenzy.

"Easy there, Valentine," he soothed, rubbing a hand down the length of the dog's spine. The old hound, seeming satisfied, returned to his bed and lay down with a loud, tired huff.

The short blond strode to the left, throwing his sweat-upon shirt unto his chaise and opening the armoire to extract a clean, ruffled white blouse, along with a pair of black trousers in the stead of his sweaty, tan leather riding breeches. His riding boots, scuffed and dusty, were thrown haphazardly into the bottom of the wardrobe, replaced with thin white socks and black leather shoes, polished to a reflective shine. Over the entire ensemble, a baby-blue silk waistcoat, silver pocket watch already chained on, and a darker navy cotton-tailed jacket.

Roxas had some sort of feeling he would be going out tonight, even though he knew very well that his parents were throwing some sort of dinner party for their own friends. It was just about time for the boy to begin going to parties on his own, to mingle and find eligible ladies and refine his skills as he parents worked deals over with other mothers and fathers and found him a suitable match, with a family lineage of bearing male heirs. This was his chance to live, until his parents restored order and supreme power.

Once the fall chill set in, Roxas would be sent to live with his cousin, Sora, for a few months, as a sort of male retreat. Parties were to be thrown, of course, but only the young men would be in attendance. It was to be a chance for Roxas to have a last fling at childhood and bachelordom, for the expectation was to come back engaged to some fine lady or another.

Roxas knew by now most of the woman his parents were looking into, because not many had either the dowry or the good breeding to interest them. Being a Duke came with plenty of monetary advantage, and Roxas knew that whomsoever he married and himself could live off of his inheritance alone for the rest of their lives, and keep the great-grandchildren well spoiled with absolutely no work on their parts. But it was always necessary to procure more money, more power, more political standing in the world, and so his parents would also want to find a woman from a large, influential, well known family, with far reaching familial roots.

The blond didn't feel strongly one way or the other about any woman in particular, and thus didn't quite care whom his parents chose for him to wed, as long as she wasn't a completely horrible woman with no sense of humor and no wit. It also would be nice for her to know how to ride, along with having decent looks. It wouldn't do to have an ugly heir. Not that Roxas wanted many children, but he knew it to be his duty to go about his business until a male heir be procured. The young man really had nothing _against_ children, but was not very good with interacting with them. They were noisy and prone to emotional strain. And girls would only cost him money in the long run, so, really, all he wanted was one son.

Straightening his ruffled collar, Roxas swiped a hand through his hair and snuck a glance at his self in the full-length hanging mirror before stepping out into the hallway and marching to the other side of the upstairs wing to discuss the nightly plans with his mother and father.

* * *

Before the first golden leaf had kissed the decaying green grass, Roxas had packed up some of his warmer clothes and been settled into a carriage. He was bound for his cousin's abode, of slightly less grandeur than his home, nearer to the city, yet still laid out on sprawling green acres.

Gabriel would be awaiting him there, which was one of Roxas' sole comforts. The young duke did not entirely like being thrust into a new abode, even though this cousin was his closest in his entire familial line, seeing as there was merely a year between himself and the older man. The other was coming into his own now, seeking out his own home in Paris of all places, and this would be his last season in England.

He was to be a good influence on Roxas during the time he stayed there, older and thusly mature and knowing more in the ways of the world. The one thing that did brighten the blond's spirits ever so faintly was the knowledge that he would be visiting with a group of only men; his aunt and uncle were off to Bath to be with the best of the best, as were his own parents, although they with a much more serious task at hand.

There were certain to be a party or two thrown while he visited, and knowing that no one's parents should be there to be stern voices of reason were even more of a reason to be excited. But, for now, Roxas would have to sit back and enjoy the long, tiring ride to Farnborough.

* * *

The Facetté household was much like the Ackart manor. The land at the back of the house was more developed, for guests, with tables and a large slab of marble extending out from the back doors, with hedge mazes and fountains further out.

Roxas was met at the door of his carriage by an exuberant brunette, otherwise known as Sora Facetté, the man just barely an inch or two taller than the blond, despite being older.

"Oh, cousin, what a joy it is to see you!"

Sora insisted upon taking Roxas' bags himself, and the young Duke was glad that he had neglected to pack much. The two marched into the less-than-grand entrance and up a flight of stairs to an upper hallway that housed less than ten rooms.

Roxas was given the third best room in the entire house. Once his energetic host seemed to have run off all of his babbling, gossiping steam, he stood near the doorway awkwardly, watching Roxas unpack his clothing.

"I take it master Bádeau will be with us for the weekend?" Roxas asked cordially, hanging his shirts and jackets up in the armoire. Riku and Sora were practically inseparable, which would have been gossiped upon, were it not for Sora's complete and utter naivety and innocent charm that quickly melted any sorts of suspicions. Riku was insanely protective of his friend, and the two tended to come off as strongly bonded brothers more often than not.

"Hmm?" Sora's deep azure eyes brightened suddenly, an ice-melting grin cracking his face apart in an instant. "Oh, Riku, yes. He'll be here either tomorrow, or the day afterwards. Many of my friends shall be coming and going during your stay here, cousin. I've opened up invitations for them to all come and stay with us while you're here. It really is my last hoorah in England, anyway, before I head off for Paris."

"Why Paris, Sora?" Roxas inquired, finished with his packing and sliding his trunk beneath the large bed. With a slight pang, the blond felt his room too large without Valentine in the corner.

"It _is_ the city of love, Roxas," Sora murmured, his tone heavy with implications. "Besides, England is stuck in the middle of bloody nowhere. I want to be able to just take a train and be anywhere I want within a day, Roxas! I want to travel and explore and find my own niche. It just so happened that Riku's family owns a small manor in the hub of Paris—"

"Riku?" Roxas cocked one perfectly curved brow above his calculating ice-blue gaze, allowing a playful smirk to curl one corner of his mouth. Without even really truly taking time to think, Roxas had sub-consciously formed his own opinions on Riku and Sora's friendship, though he would never truly understand what his own mind was formulating.

"I thought you were going to be 'finding yourself' out there, in the big wide world!"

"I will be!" Sora exclaimed, indignant, his full pink lips pushing out in a perfect pout. "I am simply journeying across on the boat with Riku to get myself settled into Paris. He shall only be staying on for a week or so before he returns home." The boy glared heatedly at Roxas, in an effort to keep the younger boy silent.

"Gabriel arrived but an hour ago. So, what say you to a good race?"

Roxas knew this was a flimsy attempt at distracting the blond from discussing Riku and Paris further, but, it _was_ Sora's house, and any chance that Roxas had to embarrass the boy on his own property were eagerly abused.

And so, all went well, until Axel arrived.


End file.
